


More Than a Fever

by louciferish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Consent, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Cup of China, Romance, Victuuri Summer Loving 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: He’s been longing for a while, to be honest, but amidst all the kissing they’d done in Hasetsu, the long walks holding hands and and late nights in the hot springs talking about what all this means, they’ve never found the privacy for more than a quick clinch in an alcove, making out like a couple of giggling teenagers and shushing one another when Mari wanders by with a stack of towels, as if she doesn’t know they’re there.





	More Than a Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzyisozaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/gifts).

> My Victuuri Summer Loving gift, for the sweetest Izzyisozaki, and beta'd by PaintingWithWords <3
> 
> Izzy, I hope you like this! Thank you so much for all your hard work this year on the angst bang, and for just being such a delightful human being. This fandom is lucky to have you!

Beneath the window of their Beijing hotel room, the struggling heater rattles and roars. It reminds Victor of a dragon in a fairy tale, with breath like fire, but this particular dragon snores louder than Yakov. It’s not the noise that’s keeping Victor awake, though.

He’d like to blame the noise. He’d like to blame the heat, which has him kicking off all the sheets and twisting on the double bed, seeking out the cool spots he hasn’t yet touched, but the reality is that above all, it’s his own thoughts keeping him up. Each time Victor closes his eyes, he sees only Yuuri—Yuuri’s eyes wide as Victor leapt for him, their faces so close that Victor could count the flecks of amber in his deep brown irises, and then the kiss: warm, soft, perfect, but too fleeting.

Victor opens his eyes, and in the dark he sees Yuuri again, stretched out on the other bed, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. The space between them now may as well be a canyon, for all Victor can cross it. 

He’s pleased to see Yuuri sleeping after the wreck that was the night _before_ the free skate, but he can’t help longing for—something. He’s been longing for a while, to be honest, but amidst all the kissing they’d done in Hasetsu, the long walks holding hands and and late nights in the hot springs talking about what all this _means_, they’ve never found the privacy for more than a quick clinch in an alcove, making out like a couple of giggling teenagers and shushing one another when Mari wanders by with a stack of towels, as if she doesn’t know they’re there.

Victor had hoped Beijing would be a vacation in some ways, a chance to put some distance between themselves and Yuuri’s lovely parents with their literally paper-thin walls. He hadn’t anticipated how much the competition nerves would effect Yuuri at this level, or how exhausted Yuuri would be tonight, once the emotional tension dropped away. Victor had still been searching for good restaurants nearby to celebrate when he realized he was talking to himself—Yuuri had already fallen face first onto the bed and passed out. Victor had to shake him awake when room service arrived.

The heater belches out another stream of dry heat, and Victor debates stripping down completely. He’s down to just his underwear as it is, but it’s still too hot in here for his taste. The hotel staff controls the thermostat for the whole building, and apparently single digits are cold by their standards. Amateurs. He grabs his glass from the bedside table and takes a sip of water, hoping to ease his dry throat, but even the water feels warm. He pulls a face at the cup, as if to shame it for betraying him. 

Across the room, the other mattress rustles and creaks as Yuuri rolls onto his side, murmuring something in his sleep. Whatever it is, he ends on a pleasant sigh. In his new position, the sheets dip low, and Victor can make out a strip of pale skin through the darkness, a gap where Yuuri’s shirt has rucked up, revealing the tempting divot of his lower back. Victor swallows, feeling even more parched than before.

He really needs a minute here, away from the rattling heater, the too-warm water, and that stretch of smooth skin he wants so desperately to put his hands on. He slides his feet to the floor and slips from the bed, taking care to get up gradually and minimize the noise. Yuuri needs his sleep, no matter how much Victor wants to wake him. 

With careful hands, Victor navigates by feel to the door of their room and locates one of the hotel robes he left there earlier. He pulls it on for the sake of any other wandering guests before grabbing his water glass and room key. He can’t change the thermostat or restrain his longings, but he _can_ get ice for his water; he’d noticed the machine near the staircase earlier. He opens the door just wide enough to fit through sideways, then slips out into the hall, closing it softly behind him.

The hallway is empty and quiet aside from the faint sounds of television emanating from a few rooms along the way. Stiff hotel carpet scratches the bottoms of Victor’s bare feet. He probably should have put on slippers before coming out, but it’s too late now. The important thing is that he cools himself off enough to get some sleep. It’s past midnight already, and Yuuri is bound to notice if Victor is worn thin on their flight tomorrow—well, today. The only downside of letting Yuuri get closer is that he’s learning to see through Victor’s makeup and his photo op smiles. 

Victor fills up the glass, wincing at the clang and clatter of the dispenser. Hopefully he’s not waking up anyone else who’s having a better night. At least no one sticks their head into the hall to yell at him. He takes a sip from the cup, which is now more ice than water, and closes his eyes for a second, satisfied at the chill. It helps, at least for the moment, and he adds a bit more ice before turning back down the hall.

The door beeps and whirrs when Victor taps his key on the sensor, and he shushes it on reflex, pulling it open slowly. Light from the hall spills into their room and falls across both beds, where he can see Yuuri’s back is still turned to the door. The sheets rustle, and Victor hurries to shut out the light before he wakes him. 

After being out in the hall, Victor’s eyes protest the sudden return to darkness. Where before he could see outlines in the little light creeping through their curtains, now the room is deep black, and he has to take off his robe and find his way back to the bed on feel, guiding himself with fingers and the scrape of his bare shins on the edge of the mattress. He still bumps the corner too hard. He’ll have a bruise there, but by the time it appears, he’ll have forgotten how he got it.

Yuuri tosses in his bed again and groans softly. Victor can hear the sheets slip and springs creak as he fumbles for the nightstand and sets his cup down on the flat wood surface. 

“_Victor_...”

His name drops out of the air, surprising him, and Victor reaches for the lamp. “Yuuri?” he answers, flipping the switch and flooding the beds with warm light. He’d thought his Yuuri was sleeping peacefully, but maybe it’s not just him. Maybe Yuuri can’t sleep either.

Yuuri’s eyes fly open at the sudden light, then contract, squinting as he adjusts. He blinks and sits up slightly against the headboard, a small frown tugging at his lips as he repeats, confused, “Victor?”

His hair is mussed from sleep and sticks to his forehead. He’s sheened with sweat and slightly flushed, and at first Victor thinks it’s merely the same heat that forced him out into the hall. Then, his eyes fall to a lump, a rise in the thin white hotel sheet that’s more than just a wrinkle, and the reality of what he’s interrupted takes Victor by the throat, knocking him speechless. 

Yuuri had called his _name_. 

Yuuri is still looking at him, frowning, waiting for an explanation of why Victor woke him up so suddenly in the middle of what was, apparently, a very nice dream. Embarrassed, Victor finds the light switch again, dropping them back into darkness. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I thought—nevermind. Go back to sleep, Yuuri.” Victor moves to return to his own bed, but feels the gentle tug of fingers on his wrist. 

“Yuuri?”

“Over here.” Yuuri’s palm is hot against his skin, and he pulls at Victor, making his wishes clear. When Victor hesitates, he huffs. “Come on. You weren’t afraid to nap with me earlier.”

That’s very true. They’ve shared a bed a few times before, though that was usually from staying up too late, both of them resting on Victor’s bed in the old banquet room, telling stories and making plans until their eyes wouldn’t stay open. This is a bit different, but—it’s what Victor had wanted, isn’t it? 

Part of it, anyway.

Victor relents to Yuuri’s gravitational pull and crawls onto the bed, where Yuuri moves aside to make a space for him. As Victor falls, Yuuri meets him with a kiss, his lips chapped but eager as his free hand rises to cup the back of Victor’s head.

It’s brief, and Victor pulls back first. “Wow,” he whispers, forcing his tone teasing and light, “such Eros.” But Yuuri’s in no mood for teasing. Victor can tell from the way he rolls closer, pulling their bodies flush. Where his shirt rides up, his bare skin is a brand seared into Victor’s stomach, almost tempting enough to distract him from the desperate line of Yuuri’s cock pressing into his hip.

Victor hasn’t slept at all tonight, but he considers pinching himself to make sure. It’s too close to what he’s been fantasizing over for days to possibly be real. Yuuri’s so eager, with his fingers pressing bite-sized bruises into Victor’s biceps. His breath stutters on the exhale, mouth slotted open against’s Victor’s, and it’s painful to pull away, stretching his heart like taffy. 

“We don’t—” Victor gasps, “that is— Yuuri!” He’s cut off again when one of Yuuri’s hands migrates from his arm to caress his chest, his fingers finding sensitive places all too easily. Victor puts a hand over Yuuri’s, forcing him still as he organizes his thoughts. “Are you sure about this? We can wait until morning, or—”

“I’ve been waiting forever already.” Yuuri’s words are rushed, but laced through them is the same kind of passion Victor heard in his tone during the team press conference, the day Yuuri declared his love on national television. “Even before I really knew you— but even _more_ now that I do. I want this—you. Victor, I—”

Cupping Yuuri’s face between both hands, Victor pulls him into a kiss, and Yuuri responds without hesitation, wrapping his arm over Victor’s shoulders to pull him closer still, impossibly close, writhing against him as if he wants not even air to pass between them. If Victor had any doubts remaining, that shatters them, and he whimpers into Yuuri’s mouth as it sinks in that, finally, he can have everything he’s wanted.

Holding Yuuri tight, he rolls them so Yuuri lands on his back, and Victor falls between his parted legs. He has a hand in Yuuri’s hair, tugging gently at the fine, dark strands, and Yuuri arches up beneath him, already making little noises into Victor’s mouth that are bound to drive him crazy. Yuuri’s already so worked up, and Victor makes a mental note to ask him about the content of that dream—later. For now, he’s focused on hearing more of Yuuri’s voice, those quiet gasps like a symphony quickly building Victor up to crescendo. 

When he pulls away from Yuuri’s mouth, a whimper escapes into the air, and Yuuri bites his lip. That won’t do. Victor trails kisses along his throat, the line of his jaw, then breathes hot and close into the shell of Yuuri’s ear and feels him shudder. Yuuri’s hands are all over, first clutching at Victor’s hair and then his shoulders, his fingernails digging crescent moons into Victor’s back. Victor wants to go shirtless for _days_ after this, to show everyone the new little medals he’s earned.

Victor squirms down, shoving Yuuri’s t-shirt up to kiss his nipples, and the resulting gasp is louder even than the pounding of his heart in his own ears. 

Yuuri’s hands are back in his hair now, tugging at his scalp. “Victor—” he whines as he pulls at Victor’s hair again. “I need to feel you.”

Now that’s the sort of request Victor can’t possibly decline. 

This time, when their mouths and hips align, Victor is just as hard in his underwear, and Yuuri makes another delightful sound at the press of Victor’s erection against his own. Hoping for more, Victor rolls his hips, and Yuuri’s eyes fly open, black in the darkness as he moans—his loudest exclamation so far. They may manage to wake the neighbors yet. 

Yuuri’s hands slide down Victor’s back, stilling his movements with firm fingers. “I might not last long,” he confesses. There isn’t enough light coming through the curtains for Victor to tell if he’s blushing or not, which is a shame. Next time, he hopes to see Yuuri flushed and wanting, his lips plush and pink from kissing.

_Next time—_ “Don’t worry.” Victor grins, nuzzling against Yuuri’s neck so he can feel the smile. “Our flight isn’t until ten. We’ve got plenty of time to do this again.” When Yuuri laughs, Victor can feel the vibration rise in his throat, and it’s too tempting—he nips right there, where the laughter is born, and gets rewarded with another gasp as he starts to move again.

“Perfect.” He mouths the word into Yuuri’s collarbone and wishes he could tattoo it there, so that Yuuri would never forget. It’s the only word Victor can think of in English at the moment: a word for Yuuri, the arch of his back, the sound of his breath, and the feeling of his hands on Victor’s hips, pulling him in, driving them both on.

Victor can’t imagine anything could be better until Yuuri moves, fingers fumbling at the waist of Victor’s underwear, and _that_? That is infinitely better. Yuuri is full of good ideas tonight. 

They’re both clumsy with need, but somehow Victor manages to move his waistband down enough to pull his cock free, and Yuuri does the same. The sensation, when they slide against one another—hot and hard and _new_—makes Victor hiss. Yuuri’s quiet until Victor wraps his hand around them both.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri groans, and Victor has to kiss him again for that. They fit together in his hand so well. He squeezes and delights in Yuuri’s whimper.

If only he had _lube_. He’d brought some for the trip, hoping, but it’s across the room still in his suitcase. No part of him wants to leave this bed right now, but there’s no chance either of them will come this way without something to smooth his strokes. His hand is simply too full—which is a very good problem to have. 

Victor pulls himself from the kiss and drops his head onto Yuuri’s shoulder with a groan that’s more regret than arousal. He’s not sure how he can bring himself to step away from this. 

Something plasticky scrapes at his shoulder, and Victor raises his head to find Yuuri dangling a packet of lube between them. The nightstand drawer beside the bed gapes open. “You brought _lube_?” Victor gasps, delighted, and Yuuri covers his face with his hands before nodding. 

Victor lets go of their cocks and commits himself with fervor to a more important task, pulling Yuuri’s hands away and peppering his face with kisses. He wishes it were light again, to watch Yuuri’s flush change from embarrassment to pleasure. He’ll have to do it again in the morning— and again, and again, every day after that.

Once Yuuri’s face has been adequately kissed, Victor picks up the packet from where it had fallen beside the pillow. With his hand wet, he wraps it around them both once more, and their sounds come in chorus. 

“God,” Victor gasps, fingers tightening on reflex at the sensation. “You feel _incredible_.” Yuuri doesn’t reply, but his mouth falls open, his back arching. His hands are moving without thought, grasping at Victor’s arms, then his waist, then curling in the sheets as he whines high in his throat. 

With Victor’s hand sliding easily over them both, it’s inevitable that neither of them will set any records for stamina tonight. Victor reaches for the back of Yuuri’s head, pulling him up into a kiss that covers for all manner of words begging to spill from Victor’s tongue—easy words like _yes_ and _beautiful_, but also harder ones, like _love_ and _forever_.

Though Yuuri had a head start, it’s Victor who comes first, whimpering as his head falls forward to rest on Yuuri’s collarbone. As the last spurts of cum slick his hand further and his cock twitches, softening, Yuuri shudders and follows without a sound. 

Their twin breaths in the aftermath overpower even the roar of the heating unit—for a moment, at least, before it kicks into high gear with an angry growl and Victor huffs a laugh, rolling to drop into the empty space at Yuuri’s side. 

“What’s funny?” Yuuri sounds confused, but Victor shakes his head. He finds the light switch and blinks at the sudden adjustment. They’re both a mess, ruddy skin and hair stuck to their faces from sweat, plus the pool of cum glistening on Yuuri’s stomach. 

Yuuri catches where Victor is looking and wrinkles his nose. His shirt, rucked up under his arms, caught some of the mess already, so Yuuri sacrifices it, pulling it off to wipe at the puddle before passing it to Victor for his own clean-up. 

Victor’s throat is dry from breathing through his mouth. He feels like he just did two run throughs of _Eros_ himself. As he wipes his chest down, he also grabs a drink of water, grateful now for the extra ice he put in that’s since melted. After gulping down half of it, he offers Yuuri the rest.

Yuuri’s eyebrows shoot up when the cool water touches his tongue, and he drains the cup before giving it to Victor to place back on the nightstand. He leaves his arm splayed out, and Victor takes his cue, tucking himself into the space against Yuuri’s side. With someone else, it might feel ridiculous—two grown men in a double bed, the taller one curled somewhat to fit—but how it may look can’t phase him so long as it’s Yuuri. It’s still too hot in here, much too hot for cuddling, but Victor can’t pull himself away, can’t bear to deny himself even a second of this time.

Victor rolls over only long enough to turn the lamp off, throwing them back into darkness. His eyes are drifting closed when he feels Yuuri sigh beside him.

“I’ll never get back to sleep now,” Yuuri whispers, his voice catching. “My heart is still racing.” Victor reaches out in answer, taking Yuuri’s hand to place it at the center of his own chest. 

“Mine is too,” he confesses. He hides his smile against Yuuri’s neck, so Yuuri can feel it as it stretches, turning wolfish. “But, the sooner we sleep, the sooner we can wake up and do it again, my Yuuri.”

Despite the heat in the room, Yuuri shivers. "I'd like that—very much."


End file.
